Posts Tagged ‘blogging’
Wayback Again
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What will you find this time? You’ll only discover it by clicking the image…
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Wayback Somethings
The calendar has arrived upon the week of my [abbreviated] Tour of Minnesota bike trip, this year combined with a long weekend Friswold family lake place gathering, during which time I will be taking a break from posting new content.
However, that doesn’t mean there won’t be something unexpected for you to find here each day. You know me better than that.
All you need to do is click the image below for an adventure with the Relative Something Random Wayback Machine, courtesy of creative technical support provided by our son, Julian.
Each day that I’m gone, a new invitation will appear, encouraging you to try your luck with a click on the Previous Somethings carrousel that is programmed to randomly load a post from my archive of over ten years of stories and pictures.
I offer no guarantee of high-value results, as there are plenty of clunkers mixed in with the sublime and the mundane that could pop up. If you believe in the possibility strongly enough, you might succeed in revisiting an old favorite, or maybe a specific message that you were meant to see on this particular day.
Take a chance! Click!
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Ten Tidbits
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• When publishing a list, always put a quantity in the title.
• If there is no story to tell, a list actually tells a story.
• Not every clementine in a bunch is as good as all the others.
• A degenerating disc doesn’t need an obvious activity to begin to bulge.
• When ordering day-old chicks online, you never know when you might end up with a rooster.
• If the industrialization of our planet creates exponential increases in carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, the weather will get weird.
• History is only as interesting as the interest one puts into it.
• It is really nice to be able to work outdoors when sanding wood sculptures.
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• The most amazing thing about video recordings of interesting events that have occurred is that someone thought to record it at the time.
• Unexpected audio suddenly blaring unexpectedly when the phone is set on silent is a very unwelcome jolt to the senses.
• It doesn’t really matter how many tidbits you include when putting a quantity in the title.
• The pandemic won’t end all at once with some specific point, but will gradually disappear over time.
• Lists of tidbits don’t share that same trait.
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Quiet Here
There isn’t much happening, which is a good thing, really. But it takes a bit of the wind out of my sails when it comes to chronicling the hilarious goings-on around here. Last night under the dramatic glow of the big moon it was all calm and quiet.
I tried to understand short-selling and all the excitement over the wallstreetbets sub-reddit escapades. We turned on a rerun of “Vera” on the local PBS station. I assembled the border of a new puzzle while Cyndie put together another scrumptious dinner featuring a homemade lentil soup that was aromatically simmering on the stove when I walked in the door after work.
Delilah harassed Pequenita in-between grinding her fangs on a beef knee cap treat. Only two eggs appeared in the coop nest boxes for the day.
The television news featured citizen reports of difficult attempts to get vaccine shots. I talked back to the tv, imploring them to recognize demand out-paces supply. If you want to be one of the first to get a shot, it will involve extensive effort or brilliant luck. The other option is to be patient and wait for the supply to increase.
Plan for the worst, hope for the best.
If one chooses to be patient and wait, it is good form to avoid whining and complaining about things at the same time.
By the time sleep pulled my eyelids closed at the end of the night, all was quiet on the homefront.
You won’t hear (read) any complaints from me about that.
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RS Interview 4
Picking up where yesterday’s post left off, the Relative Something interview with *The* John W. Hays continues on the topic of love and more…
RS: Love seems like a worthy topic!
JWH: Love is my religion. It is one common theme woven through all world religious beliefs. Love is universal. When situations require a decision, using love as a compass to guide that decision will make the world a better place. No dogma required. Love doesn’t necessarily provide certainty, it accepts mystery. Love is all we need.
RS: Is this a change for you, the focus on love?
JWH: Well, I suppose there has been a transition over the years. I think the primary significance for me was learning to love myself enough to overcome negative self-talk. A secondary shift came about as I grew weary of the abuses and hypocrisies that were being exposed in organized religions. The way political parties wield religious beliefs like weapons. The fact that religious faiths would go to war against other human beings who worship differently.
Humans defining a deity seems like the ultimate hubris to me. And a horrible construct the powerful use to control others and gain wealth. Especially horrible because it is usually masqueraded under a veil of love. Love deserves better. The best response I see to that is to keep the love and leave the rest behind.
I’ve learned to love myself in a more healthy way and use love beyond the confines of organized religion to navigate my interactions with others in the world.
RS: What is something people wouldn’t know about you from reading what you write?
JWH: Not much. I’m embarrassingly transparent. Basically, they won’t know what I don’t write. For some reason, I haven’t been writing about the fact that it’s been so long since I last played guitar that I can’t remember when the last time was. And I probably haven’t written about it because I don’t really know why I stopped. I wonder if it has anything to do with the way I am aging, mentally, and physically, but the influences are too intangible to explain it with one simple pat reason.
Thinking about it, which is what happens when I try to write on the subject –and not writing about it has meant I could avoid thinking about it– I suspect it is related to the amount of time I have been commuting to the day-job four days a week. Exhaustion saps my creative energy. It also leaves less oomph to want to pedal my bikes up hills and into winds. I did not ride a bike at all this summer. When the pandemic canceled the annual June week of biking and camping, I lost that incentive to do conditioning rides. My attention defaulted to property maintenance on our acres. There is always more that can be done than there are hours and days.
The good news is that I have been incredibly happy to do that. I question myself about the health risks of not making music or riding my bikes, but maybe my version of aging is one of working on our property and then nestling inside our gorgeous home to type out my thoughts on a computer.
I have an inkling that a day in the not-so-distant future when that thing called retirement happens, my recreational pursuits could return with a vengeance. I think that would be absolutely lovely.
RS: Amen to that.
Thank you, JWH for agreeing to be the first interviewee in what Relative Something hopes will become an ongoing occasional feature in the years ahead. *This* John W. Hays’ take on things and experiences involves and is influenced by innumerable others. This will provide an opportunity to expand the narrative. Because, why not?
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Yard Birds
********** (Yesterday, an otherwise wonderful Sunday morning, I failed in my battle with learning the new “block” system of editing a WordPress post. I lost my temper, threw my computer, and went outside without publishing a post, where I would be able to work on projects I could control.
Try as I might to format the text and images to achieve my intention, the results consistently foiled me. After repeated unintended results which looked ridiculously wrong, from which I could not find the “undo” option that would at least return to the previous look, I boiled over.
Without going back and striving to accomplish my goal, I am, for now, resigning myself to living with whatever result this new editor mode produces, whether I like it, or not.
The following is the text and images I wanted to post yesterday morning, not as I intended it to look, but as the WordPress software allows me to present.)
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The pullets and Rocky are still confined to a fenced courtyard attached to the coop, but the big girls –a buff orpington, an australorpe, and a wyandotte– wander the property freely.
Saturday, while Cyndie was cleaning up the pine needle aftermath left from our removal of another dead pine tree, the three hens showed up to get in on the action.
Never one to pass up an opportunity to offer food to her loved ones, Cyndie had a treat ready to serve.
The girls rarely pass up the offerings of anything edible.
I think it shows in their not-so-svelte silhouettes.
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Change’s Sake
My immense aversion to changes in software that was working just fine for me leads me to think that perhaps I am getting old.
Is it a problem for you, dear readers, that I don’t have little icons on this blog for sundry social media sites of the latest trend? Has my neglect to format the appearance to best suit the portrait orientation of mobile devices left you frustrated?
Ever find yourself wondering why my blog doesn’t include links to sites for purchasing products I promote, or a button allowing you to donate money to sustain my lifestyle?
These are all features that I have chosen to ignore, despite frequent WordPress marketing messages encouraging me to incorporate.
In March of 2009, I searched for a platform to publish my “take on things and experiences” and found a template ‘theme’ that matched my tastes. I’ve seen no reason to change since.
The word-cloud I selected for the side margin of my posts slowly changes over time, not always to my ideal, but it’s simply a reflection of what I write about the most, so I let it go.
Truth in advertising.
After some trial and error tinkering, sometimes requiring mystery clicks on vague icons with unclear popup titles, I have reached a mostly functional equilibrium that reasonably matches my previous editing experience.
I do miss the running word-count information that previously displayed at the bottom of my view as I typed.
With time, I will learn whether or not that’s a feature I can add back, as I explore the myriad other repackaged ways WordPress has changed my blogging experience to make it so much better.
Okay, never mind. I just clicked the “help” icon at the bottom of my view and learned I can click an information icon at the top of the screen to find that information.
That was at 308 words, if you care.
Which is more than enough to call for an end to my whining about change for change’s sake.
How about a bit of boasting about the other burden I so often face as the spouse of one who loves to bake?
I keep getting asked to sample and review the latest delicious morsels being baked under a constantly changing mix of ingredients and techniques.
My judgements might be influenced unfairly by the fact I usually enjoy the advantage of performing these tests on goods fresh and warm from the oven, but the taste analyses are probably universal.
Cyndie is gaining proficiency with each refinement she makes.
We make a pretty good team.
I credit our ability to change with the times, albeit sometimes kicking and whining all the way.
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Planting Acorns
When all around you the world appears to be unraveling in every direction, try planting a tree.
In our case, we’ve decided to take a crack at planting many. Last week we buried over a hundred acorns in a line outside the fence of the paddocks.
Since nature does such an amazing job of producing oak sprouts everywhere on our property, we decided to see if we could organize some of them to pop up right where we’d like to have them growing for the shade they would eventually provide.
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Note: WordPress has done another update to their format, changing the look of my editing space and eliminating options that I previously used when formatting my posts. I do not have the control I once had, so things may appear different from what you were used to seeing until a time when I figure out a new way to achieve the results I desire.
Already, I miss the good old days of composing my posts.
Disgruntled-ly yours,
JWH
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Several Routines
As I was going through my usual work-week routine last night, preparing my breakfast and lunch for today, this is what I observed: I have a tendency for routine. Every night before work, I take steps to support my quick departure the next morning at an early hour to beat traffic in my long commute to the far side of the Twin Cities.
In the morning, all I need to do is get dressed and go, after waking and going through my planking and stretching routine. My clothes were selected the night before and my breakfast and lunch foods prepared in advance.
My process for preparing my foods for the workday is equally routine.
I precisely measure my serving of cereal for the morning breakfast to stay below my threshold for added sugar. The amount of yogurt that I serve with my cereal is only a fraction of the amount in a typical “single serving” package. There is a perfect-sized spoon I like to use for this small serving of yogurt.
Since I do this routine repeatedly, I don’t simply put the spoon in with dirty dishes when I am done with it. I wash the spoon and place it back in the silverware drawer, but not just anywhere. I slip it beneath all the other various spoons of that style so I can be sure to find it the next day.
Some have a smaller scoop. Some have longer handles. Those aren’t the ones I want.
I do this because, if I leave it right on top, the odds are high that Cyndie will take it next time she is looking for a spoon.
Seems simple enough at this point, I hope. However, this plan doesn’t always produce the desired results.
Very often, when I reach in to grab “my spoon,” it’s not there on the bottom anymore.
Why not?
I’ve talked with Cyndie about it, and she has no clue.
In my head, I picture her reaching in and grabbing whatever spoon is on top at the time. This shouldn’t mix the order enough to dislodge my carefully stowed particular spoon.
Must be some other mysterious law of physics I know nothing about.
Now, by this point, you must be imagining any number of easy alternative solutions to avoiding this problem of keeping track of one specific spoon. I could tie a ribbon on the handle. I could place it in a different location away from the other spoons.
I know.
But, honestly, this situation doesn’t even deserve the number of words I’m wasting on it here. If I seriously fretted over this, I could easily come up with a more permanent solution. It’s become more of a game for me to see if the spoon will be there, or not.
I’m intrigued by the odd phenomenon.
And look, it provided fodder for another of my ROUTINEs: writing a daily blog post.
Obviously, I have a tendency for routine.
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Relative Something 